


Never Know

by deniallisstrong



Series: Ziam Tumblr Drabbles (ifigureditout) [24]
Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: (spoilers) - Freeform, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Best Friends, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Possibly Unrequited Love, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-03-27 23:00:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13890948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deniallisstrong/pseuds/deniallisstrong
Summary: Zayn is curled up on one side of the couch, occasionally pushing up the bridge of his glasses as he wordlessly thumbs through his book.Normally, this would feel good and this would feel right, by Zayn’s side as Liam reworks some of his lyrics in front of him. But there’s a nervous energy that envelops them both, unexplainable in the fact that it seemingly surrounds Zayn, too.Liam doesn’t just feel it--he sees it, too. It’s subtle, but it’s there in the way he can’t quite seem to sit still. In the way that he reads more slowly than normal, seemingly rereading pages upon pages.Finally, he hears it in the way his voice shakes, in the way his hands quake as he forces the book closed and distractedly sets it in his lap, not even bothering to bookmark where he’s at.“Liam, can we talk? I need…” He gulps, holding his hands firmly to his legs, keeping his arms from flailing as he talks. “Your advice? I guess?”(Or, where Liam decides it’s finally time to tell Zayn his feelings towards him--or, at least, that’s the plan. Fate, or something like it, intervenes.) [Chapter One of Never Know, an angsty ficlet] [Fic inspired, in part, by the song “Concept of Chance” by Holly Conlan]





	1. Never Know

**Author's Note:**

> Spotify playlist for fic found [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/deniallisstrong/playlist/2z7dvqOKdviJ7lFA30Jedu?si=20EDac0dTN6mBU4PCVNVnw) (including the song that this fic is inspired by)

“I think I should tell him,” Liam frets, worrying his bottom lip against his teeth.

Niall looks up, but only with mild curiosity before he glances back down again to finish scribbling the sentence he’s writing. “You mean tell Zayn that you’ve been in love with him for the past two years?”

Liam’s neck swivels sideways as he blinks at Niall, stomach dropping at his cavalier words.

Seeing this from the corner of his eye, Niall sets his pen down gently. “Li,” he starts slowly. “I’ve known you practically my whole life. And I’ve been around you long enough to know what your heart eyes look like.” He snorts. “I’d almost forgotten what they looked like ‘til he came around, though.”

“Oh God,” Liam rubs his hands over his eyes and forces in a shallow breath. “If you already know, and, like, probably the rest of the world, too, do you think  _he_  does, also?”

Niall, for his part, thinks on the question. “No, I don’t, actually. He’s usually the observant, insightful one.” He pauses, giving a knowing smile. “Except when it comes to you.”

Seeing Liam’s eyes widen, Niall realizes the weight behind his words, of how much Liam is staking on Niall’s guess. So he quickly adds for good measure, putting his hands up in surrender, “I mean, of course, that’s just what I think. I could be wrong.”

“Okay, so,” Liam chokes out. “You’re still saying I should tell him?”

Niall half-shrugs. “I would if I were you,” he says honestly before giving Liam a soft pat on the back. “But you know I’d never force you to do anything.”

\---

Liam sits on the thought, the variations of expected conversations looping in his mind for days. He ruminates on it, melding his imaginary words until he can no longer take the slow and painful simmering of those words, lodging themselves somewhere deep in his stomach, seemingly out of reach but never out of mind.

On a quiet, rainy day, nondescript other than the pound of Liam’s heart and the stabbing thoughts that threaten to absorb Liam’s sanity for good, he decides he just needs to get it over with. Ever since the damn idea got put in his head by some cheesy 2am, Hallmark romcom, he hasn’t been able to sleep since.

And God, he can feel the exhaustion practically reeking off of his body.

So, enough is enough.

Zayn is curled up on one side of the couch, occasionally pushing up the bridge of his glasses as he wordlessly thumbs through his book.

Normally, this would feel good and this would feel  _right_ , by Zayn’s side as Liam reworks some of his lyrics in front of him. But there’s a nervous energy that envelops them both, unexplainable in the fact that it seemingly surrounds  _Zayn_ , too.

Liam doesn’t just feel it--he sees it, too. It’s subtle, but it’s there in the way he can’t quite seem to sit still. In the way that he reads more slowly than normal, seemingly rereading pages upon pages.

Finally, he hears it in the way his voice shakes, in the way his hands quake as he forces the book closed and distractedly sets it in his lap, not even bothering to bookmark where he’s at.

“Liam, can we talk? I need…” He gulps, holding his hands firmly to his legs, keeping his arms from flailing as he talks. “Your advice? I guess?”

Liam chances one more half-hearted glance to his lyrics before closing the notebook and turning to slowly face Zayn. “Alright, sure,” he forces out, but his throat is tighter than it should be and his thoughts even more scrambled than they have been. And all he can think is,  _but what about what_ I _need to say?_

It’s selfish. He knows that, but it doesn’t stop the thought from manifesting before he can stop it.

Quick to pick up on Liam’s sudden change, Zayn reassures in a rush, “You didn’t do anything, I promise. I just… you always know me so well, yeah?”

Liam nods, because, well, yeah, he does. That’s sort of why he wanted to have that discussion in the first place. “I have something to talk about, too, actually,” he blurts out at the first hint of a pause, getting it out before all of his courage dashes back down the rabbit hole. “When you’re done, of course,” he clarifies quickly.

Zayn’s eyebrows furrow momentarily, but they seem to clear up a bit as he processes the words. “Of course,” he smiles, and it’s so effortless, so full of  _trust_  and  _care_ , that Liam’s immediately jealous of his lack of worry.

Still, he sees it come back to Zayn immediately as the topic switches back to him. “So, you know Tom, right?” Zayn says slowly, as if introducing his awkward friend at a party that Liam doesn’t really want to be at.

Liam, for one, is confused by this start. “Yeah,” he says, but it comes out more as a question. “Of course I do. I’ve hung out with you and him, like… hundreds of times now.”

He’s trying to understand why Zayn feels the need to remind him of Tom’s existence--and it takes him a few seconds. Until his heart sinks as it suddenly hits him all at once: of the soft giggles that Zayn always lets out when he’s around him, of the playful banter between the two of them, of the physical closeness between the two of their bodies, practically touching at any given point in time.

It wasn’t that Liam ever felt like a third wheel. No, he was comfortable enough with Zayn that he could stroll alongside the two, allowing himself to be inserted into the conversation when Zayn kindly did so.

Maybe it was hope that blinded him, hope or  _trust_  that what he and Zayn had was stronger. Maybe he’d thought that he and Tom were just close friends, comfortable in each others’ spaces and lives.

As the feeling sinks further into his gut and sticks to the walls of his stomach, though; as Zayn begins to slowly explain what Liam just put together; he figures out that, no, he already knew, somewhere deep in his mind.

Somewhere he’d never actually let himself roam.

So--none of it surprises him, not really. Once he allows himself to realize it, it’s not a shock.

He’d just hoped that maybe if he didn’t think about it, maybe it would go away.

And it almost had. He’d convinced himself that he was imagining things, that it was just jealousy and the two were just friends. Almost.

God, he’d been so  _close_ , too. He’d been so good at tricking himself that he’d almost confessed his love like a madman, almost brought their friendship crashing down because of his  _intuition_. His intuition that had deliberately forgotten to mention  _Tom_ , had forgotten to remind Liam that he and Zayn?--they aren’t the only two people in this world, as much as it often feels otherwise.

Tom’s short brown hair tickling against Zayn’s cheek as he bent down a few inches to whisper something in his ear, his chestnut brown eyes lighting up as Zayn told a joke.

No--Liam and Zayn were never alone in these moments, nor in the many more that come rushing back all at once. As much as Liam had wanted (hoped), it was never just the two of them.

“--kinda had a thing for him for a while now.” Liam misses the beginning of what he’s saying, but he quickly picks up the gist of it.

“I’ve been thinking about telling him, like, how I feel, I guess,” Zayn continues on, sounding almost pained. “But I wanted to get your opinion first.” There’s a pause as he decides whether or not to say the next part, giving him a calculating look as he falters on the words. “And your okay.”

Liam lets out a laugh that sounds almost  _hysterical_ , even to his own ears. “You don’t need my okay,” he insists, but the words sound fake,  _tight_  in his throat. He clears it, also hoping to clear his mind in the process. 

It doesn’t clear anything.

“You know I’ll always support you, whatever you do.” Liam shrugs, and it’s the truth, really it is, but it comes out hollow and more like a brokenhearted Twitter status than advice.

Zayn gives him a long look, gnawing on his bottom lip as he thinks through what to say next. “That’s true,” he finally concedes. When Liam shows no attempt at continuing the conversation on his own, Zayn prods, “So, what about your opinion, then?”

Liam swallows hard, looking down at his hands, suddenly stirring by his side. “I mean…” He tries to think about how to be as honest as possible without giving himself away. “I always think it’s best to be honest with someone.”

 _Coward_ , the back of his mind hisses as he refuses to even remotely take his own suggestion.

“Like, I think, if you’re really interested in someone, you should let them know?” Allowing himself to make eye contact with Zayn again, he feels more and more unsure of this advice by the second. “Otherwise, you’ll just…” Liam squeezes his eyes closed for half a second. “Never know. What could have been.”

 _This is_ different, Liam hisses back.

Zayn nods slowly, looking thoughtful as he seems to truly take in Liam’s words. “Yeah, you’re right.”

If only Liam’d had the courage to speak first.

If only Liam didn’t feel the unspoken words tearing his insides apart.

_If only. If only._

“I think I will tell him, then,” Zayn says, sounding more and more sure by the second. “I mean, what’s the worst that can happen?”

 _This_ , Liam thinks bitterly. Instead, he offers a weak smile.

“Thanks, Liam,” Zayn says sincerely, and he seems a little bit looser after the conversation. More relaxed though still--concerned, maybe?--eyeing Liam with that same look of worry. Worry and something else he can’t quite place.

 “Now, what was it that  _you_  wanted to talk about?” Zayn asks, turning all his attention to Liam.

Liam pales. “I--” He trails off, not having allowed himself to think this far ahead. After the conversation shifted so suddenly, every single thought mashed into one big _S.O.S._  and he couldn’t think past the current sentence he was saying. 

Life seemingly flashing in front of his eyes, Liam finally gets out, “Err, I--I don’t actually remember.” He gives a look of chagrin--true and real, just for an entirely different reason than Zayn thinks. 

He blows some air up onto his face, hoping to catch the raging flush that’s already soaring across his cheeks. “Must not have been that important,” he says nonchalantly, doing his best to play it off.

It must work well enough, because Zayn just nods and doesn’t press it. Though his expression is still the same, and Liam feels momentarily  _guilty_ , for making Zayn worry about him. “If you…” Zayn pauses. “ _Remember_.” He says the word pointedly. “Just know you can tell me anytime, yeah?”

Liam forces himself to smile, though he’s sure it very quickly morphs into a grimace. “Of course,” he breathes, even though he fully knows that… well, he can’t.

Because life has never really been that simple, has it?


	2. Whatever This Is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Has he told him yet?” Liam finally asks after a long, drawn-out pause--one that would normally annoy Louis, though he seems to be unbothered by it today.  
> That in it of itself worries Liam more than anything else.  
> He knows he’s probably three days too late to even ask, but he’s tired of fretting on it, tired of waiting, tired of not knowing the goddamn answer when it’s all he can think about.  
> Louis immediately knows what Liam means, and though he’s well aware he could give him shit for his vague comment, he knows that’s not what Liam needs right now--and he’s not heartless.  
> “Nah, mate, he hasn’t,” Louis says, a small smile threatening to crack the surface. Through the mounds of blankets piled on Liam, he gives Liam’s feet a light pat, and doesn’t say anything else.  
> He doesn’t need to.  
> (Or, where Liam struggles to get out of bed, until Louis gives him the bit of news he needs to hear the most.) [Chapter Two of Never Know, an angsty ficlet]

On the first day, it’s only once 5:00pm hits that Liam gets up to go to the bathroom, grab some peanut butter and crackers, and then shuffle back into his bed to shove the dry concoction in his mouth. (Halfheartedly, it’s then that he wishes for water. But not enough to find the will to pull his legs off the bed and out of the warm cocoon he’s wrapped himself in.)

The second day comes and passes, just as quickly--but not _easily,_  Liam frets--as the first. This time, he only gets up after Niall threatens him. With a tattoo.

“If ya don’t get up and out of there for at least a few minutes, Payno, I can’t say I’m gonna be able to get that tattoo with ya anymore,” Niall yells as he knocks at Liam’s door, sounding more chirpy than he should.

Liam rolls his eyes, but after a few minutes of wrestling back and forth with himself, he forces himself up and back into the kitchen.

Besides, his stomach really doesn’t like this whole _hide-out-until-all-your-feelings-have-come-and-gone_ thing.

“We both know you’re never gonna actually get that tattoo,” Liam says matter-of-factly. Though he’s not even _looking_ at Niall but rather his back, which is faced right in front of him as he struggles to open his beer against the countertop.

Liam sighs and grabs him a bottle opener, handing it to him before Niall hums in thanks.

“Got ya out of bed, though, didn’t it?” Niall laughs, giving Liam a hard slap on the back.  
“Fuck you,” Liam says dryly, ignoring Niall to head straight for the still-open fridge.

“I think Zayn’s the one ya really wanna do that to,” Niall says hurriedly, getting out the surprisingly cheeky words while he still can before he scampers off into the next room where he can be safe from harm. Liam’s harm, that is.

Liam just groans. “Don’t remind me” is all he yells back.

By the third day, Liam wakes up to a knock on his door.

“Hey, Li?” Louis calls, and it sounds almost… _gentle?_

“Come in,” Liam says but it comes out more like a croak than real words.

Louis pouts as he walks in, seeing a practically lifeless Liam curled into what looks a lot like the fetal position. “I’ve been a bit worried about you,” Louis says honestly.

It’s just out of character enough for Liam to blink and sit up, feeling almost guilty.

“This hermit-like behavior is _Zayn’s_ thing, not yours, you know,” Louis points out with raised eyebrows.

Liam just nods wordlessly, not sure what else to say. Where to even begin. “Has he told him yet?” Liam finally asks after a long, drawn-out pause--one that would normally annoy Louis, though he seems to be unbothered by it today.

That in it of itself worries Liam more than anything else.

He knows he’s probably three days too late to even ask, but he’s tired of fretting on it, tired of waiting, tired of not knowing the goddamn answer when it’s all he can think about.

Louis immediately knows what Liam means, and though he’s well aware he could give him shit for his vague comment, he knows that’s not what Liam needs right now--and he’s not heartless.

“Nah, mate, he hasn’t,” Louis says, a small smile threatening to crack the surface. Through the mounds of blankets piled on Liam, he gives Liam’s feet a light pat, and doesn’t say anything else.

He doesn’t need to.

\---

Louis may not be _heartless,_ but he does like to push Liam’s buttons. Sometimes. (But _especially_ when they’re in a pub, where Louis seems to feel most like himself. And also where he tends to drink a bit too much.)

That is, after all, why they became friends during the X Factor.

When Louis tells him this between a sip of beer, Liam just snorts. “Lou, I hated you at first.”

“That was just deep, deep love that you couldn’t quite place. Yet. Took you a bit of time.”

It’s this comment that makes Liam suddenly miss the quiet, careful Louis from just two days ago.

“Sure,” Liam scoffs, taking this opportunity to chug too much of his beer.

“Sooooo, you gonna tell Zayn?”

Liam offers him a sharp look, as if to say _we’ve-already-been-over-this._

“Okay, I’ll ask after your next drink then.”

Two drinks later, Louis’ plowing back in, his own tongue a little looser from the alcohol.

“Call him,” he goads lightly when Liam goes uncharacteristically quiet.

Lifting his head, Liam tilts it to the left and then the right, as if considering the option.

“Call him,” Louis repeats, a little more forcefully this time.

Biting his lip, Liam admits, “I’m not drunk enough for that.” He sighs, finishing in a low voice, “Besides, he’s worth more than a sloppy drunk voicemail.”

“Then let’s get more pissed. So pissed you forget, and then in the morning--” He grins at Liam cheekily “--after your wicked hangover is through, call him.”

\---

Liam doesn’t think he hates anyone more than he hates Louis.

Not only was he the driving force behind the throbbing of his brain and his hammering headache, he’s also the one that planted the idea of telling Zayn. Today.

But the worst part, by far, is that he’s actually considering taking his advice-- _considering_ being the key word _._

He only decides after his pacing footsteps have long ago created indents in the carpet, leaving more than enough evidence that it’s been enough.

Liam has really--truly this time--had enough.

Liam finds the contact as fast as possible, not bothering to think more before he’s pressing the call button and flinching as he brings the phone to his ear.

After what simultaneously feels like too many rings and not enough at the same time, Zayn picks up, voice throaty. “Hello?” He gets out, sounding a bit disoriented.

“Sorry,” Liam breathes, and he can hear the nerves in his own voice, in the tight laugh that leaves his lips. “Did I wake you?”

“Maybe a little,” Zayn concedes, but the light, easy chuckle that follows makes Liam worry a bit less. Zayn _always_ makes Liam worry a bit less, though the realization doesn’t help like he knows it should. In fact, it brings a bitter taste to his mouth that he’d rather like to forget.

When Liam doesn’t immediately respond, Zayn quickly asks, “Is everything okay?”

“I don’t know,” Liam says as honestly as he can. “Maybe it could be.”

Liam hears a noise in the background, something that sounds suspiciously like Zayn’s bed creaking as he scrambles to sit up. “Let me help,” Zayn pleads quietly. And, again, there’s that _trust,_ that _care_ that always seems to be aimed at Liam when he needs it most.

It’s then that Liam knows as much as he’d like to do this through the phone, he can’t. More than anything, he needs to see Zayn, needs to talk this through, work this through. For better or for worse.

“Can I come over?” Liam asks, voice sounding small.

Zayn answers as enthusiastically as he’s able, for just having been woke up less than a minute ago. “Yeah, give me, like, half an hour, okay?” He says, waiting for Liam’s affirmation before he rushes to hang up the phone and get ready.

Though his pulsing heart, echoing loud in his ears, reminds him that he doesn’t think he could ever fully be ready for this, whatever _this_ is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry this took me so long :( my life has been an absolute mess and I didn't really need more angst to deal with at the time haha. Buttttt I'm back!! Thank you all for your patience! Please let me know what you think, if you liked it, etc. Comments and kudos always make it that much easier for me to continue on! Love you all so much, and I hope you like it! <3


	3. The Wild Card

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He bites his lip, gaze falling to the small blob of bright green paint, right next to the couch. It’s forever stained into the carpet, he knows, smiling just slightly as he remembers being the one that teasingly flicked paint at Zayn and… well, missed horribly. 
> 
> Zayn follows Liam’s line of sight, eyebrows settling for a moment as he catches onto his train of thought. Chuckling lowly, he mumbles, “Never did try to get that stain out. Think it adds some character to this place, don’t you?”
> 
> And for some reason, this hurts, the reminder that even if Liam can’t _take_ this, even if he can’t stand to be in Zayn’s life, not like this, there will always be the leftovers, the pieces that he--or Zayn--will never quite be able to get rid of.
> 
> (Or, where Liam finally tells Zayn what he wants. Or something like that, anyway.) (Chapter Three of Never Know, an angsty ficlet)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Fic inspired, in part, by the song “Concept of Chance” by Holly Conlan] [Updated Spotify playlist for this fic can be found [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/deniallisstrong/playlist/2z7dvqOKdviJ7lFA30Jedu?si=eQLO5b1vT-OYg63rGJAR3w)]

As he goes through the motions to get to Zayn’s, Liam mentally runs through what he wants to get out. He exacts each word with every turn of the steering wheel until he’s sliced it down to nothing more than a business transaction.

Though, he can’t stop the idea from forming: that just because Zayn hasn’t told Tom  _yet_  doesn’t say much, not really.

It’s this thought that almost makes him turn back around as he shifts his car into park.

Still, he forces himself out of the car, feelings coming back full force, as they always do for Zayn. As he pushes open the door, he immediately regrets the decision, suddenly feeling like he’s made of bound-tight wires rather than blood and bones.

Zayn greets him, already in the doorway as Liam moves to quietly shut the door behind him.

“Hi,” Zayn whispers, suddenly shy as his eyes travel up Liam’s body, trying to get a read on him.

“Hi,” Liam replies, smiling weakly as he avoids eye contact with Zayn.

There’s a few seconds of silence, a silence that stretches on for far too long, before Zayn sighs, nodding towards the living room, the wordless question.

Liam doesn’t respond, but he obediently follows behind as Zayn hesitantly moves that way. Finding his favorite section on the couch, he gestures to Liam to do the same.

Liam sits farther away than he would like, though Zayn refuses to comment on it.

“Is this about the other day?”

Liam’s heart stops.

“Did you remember what you wanted to tell me?” Zayn goes on, the worry evident in the crease between his eyebrows.

Liam’s heart begins to beat again--pound, actually--but only as the end of the second part leaves Zayn’s mouth. No mention of Tom yet, and Liam is already breathing a bit easier.

“Yes” is all Liam responds--because it’s true in both senses of the question. It  _is_  about the other day, and it’s something that he’ll never really be able to forget.

He bites his lip, gaze falling to the small blob of bright green paint, right next to the couch. It’s forever stained into the carpet, he knows, smiling just slightly as he remembers being the one that teasingly flicked paint at Zayn and… well, missed horribly.  

Zayn follows Liam’s line of sight, eyebrows settling for a moment as he catches onto his train of thought. Chuckling lowly, he mumbles, “Never did try to get that stain out. Think it adds some character to this place, don’t you?”

And for some reason, this hurts, the reminder that even if Liam can’t  _take_  this, even if he can’t stand to be in Zayn’s life, not like this, there will always be the leftovers, the pieces that he--or Zayn--will never quite be able to get rid of.

_But Tom could probably fill my place pretty easily, could create new paint stains in Zayn’s carpet. New memories, too._

The precise phrases he’d so carefully planned out, they all get swallowed down with Liam’s gulp, and all that comes out after this realization is “I don’t think we can hang out anymore.” It comes out throaty, less letters thrown together and more a very  _part_  of Liam.

Zayn blinks fast at this, surprise first flashing across his face, then more hurt than Liam would care to admit. “What?” He croaks, and just the word alone feels saturated with tears to come.

“I’m sorry,” Liam laments, and his own words feel wet, too, like his whole body is crying out. “I can’t…” He attempts to give Zayn an explanation, knows he  _deserves_  it. He deserves it more than anyone. There’s nothing that he did wrong, not really, other than fall in love with someone that wasn’t  _Liam_.

“I can’t do this,” he finally gets out. “I thought I could, and I thought I could keep on pretending I was fine, but…” Liam trails off, squeezing his eyes shut in a weak attempt to push back the tears he feels coming.

He knows he’s quickly passing from emotional to delusional, but, his eyes still pressed closed, he forces out, “I want you to be  _happy_ , though, really I do.”

At the light touch of a thumb rubbing down his cheek to stop a stray tear, Liam flickers his eyes open, slowly blinking away the moisture to see Zayn’s face practically against his.

“ _What_  is going on, Leeyum?” His name alone carries so much concern, so much fear, that Liam’s heart sinks, wounding himself all over again.

When Liam only shakes his head slowly, not able to get anything out yet, Zayn looks at him closely, moving his head lower to force Liam to lock eyes with him. “Is this about Tom?”

Liam nods, and it’s so small that it’s a miracle that Zayn even picks up on it.

Zayn frowns at this, seemingly a bit lost for words until he asks, “Do you...” His voice is laced with confusion as he continues, “Not like him?”

Liam buries his head in his hands, taking the opportunity to quickly wipe away any other runaway tears before he exhales lowly.

“What if I…” He gulps, lifting his head just slightly to speak. Just these words alone make him deflate, a mush of breathing jelly.

He finally makes eye contact with Zayn, glancing up through his eyelashes to ask quietly, “What if I wanted to rescind my okay?”

This seems to throw Zayn off, eyes wide as he blinks slowly. “Your what?”

Liam tries again, feeling the heat rising to his cheeks. “What if I really  _don’t_  want you to get with Tom?”

Zayn’s lips downturn just slightly, eyebrows drawing together as he tries to piece it all together in a way that make sense.

“Okay,” he answers, drawing out the letters as he tries to think of a more appropriate response. He holds back the  _why?_  dying to leave his throat, instead only clearing it as he looks expectantly to Liam.

“Yeah,” Liam finds himself adding uselessly.

Zayn leans back to squint at him, trying to understand what Liam means, what he  _wants_. He’s doing his best to put it all together, to get at the root of what all this is about, but he can’t seem to get his head up above the waves long enough to tread water. (Not that he can swim, anyway.)

Liam must understand most of this, because he seems to relax just slightly before he offers a fake smile that quickly turns into a frown. “It’s not that I think you two would be  _bad_  for each other…”  _But we would be better._

Liam bites his lip, reminding him that this time, this conversation is really happening. It’s not just in his head anymore, and  _this_  is the only shot he’ll get.

He takes a steadying breath, trying to bring himself back so that he can attempt to help Zayn make sense of all of this. “And it’s your life, of course, so I want you to do what  _you_  want....” The stipulations keep coming before he can spit out what he needs to. “But I’ve had a thing for you since we first met two years ago, Z.” He swallows hard, doing his best to avoid Zayn’s eyes as he continues on. “It’s never gone away, in all that time.” At this, he dares to chance a glance at Zayn, feeling a bit disconcerted when he looks more lost and confused than he’s ever seen him before. “If anything, it’s just gotten stronger.”

“Really?” Zayn asks, voice low. And it’s only then that Liam notices the red rimming his eyes, can see his once-restless form morph into stillness.

“I’ve been a bit afraid to message you,” Zayn says honestly, shrugging as the chagrin passes over his face. When Liam raises one eyebrow slightly, he clarifies, “I asked Lou about you.” He fiddles with the loose piece of fabric on the couch, gazing intently at it. “He told me last night that you haven’t been doing too well.” Licking his lips, he sighs, “And I couldn’t help but think it was maybe something I’d done. I started thinking about Tom, and...” He tapers off. “Even after all that I said about him, I realized that he wasn’t worth losing you.”

He glances at Liam, a look on his face that he can’t quite place. Though whatever it is, it’s just enough for his flight reaction to kick in as Zayn mutters, “Now I know why.”

Inhaling slowly, he thinks through his next words. “Leeyum, I want you to know something.”

It comes out so  _soft_  that Liam feels himself settle, especially as Zayn moves even closer, close enough now to touch him if he wanted to.

“Tom was there, and he was  _convenient_.” He almost laughs at the sheer ridiculousness of it all, of how he had missed it all before. “I knew Tom and I could work out, given the chance, of course. I was trying to be as  _logical_  as I could be, given the information I had.”

He watches Liam’s reaction carefully, silently pleading that’ll he  _get_  it. “But I was just trying to stop the incessant part of me that wouldn’t shut up about you, the part of me that could never forget you, the part of me that knew it would never be enough.”

“You had no idea,” Liam says almost breathlessly, and just this fact alone makes him smile a little bit. Because, maybe, just  _maybe_ , this could work.

Maybe it wasn’t all in his head, after all.

Zayn shakes his head, looking almost embarrassed. “You were always the wild card.” He chuckles as a thought dawns on him. “Louis will probably give me shit for not realizing. For, like, the rest of eternity, huh?” He snorts.

“Probably,” Liam says with a deep grin, wrinkles forming beside his eyes.

“Worth it,” Zayn teases. There’s a slight pause before he continues seriously, “But you don’t have to pretend you’re fine with me and Tom, okay?” Zayn says gently, lifting Liam’s chin so he can catch his eye.

Liam just nods, wide-eyed.

“ _You’re_  the one that makes me happy.” Zayn pauses, adding with a slight frown, “Well, making me happy when I’m not accidentally making you cry, anyway.”

Liam giggles at this, sniffling a bit before he jokingly asks, “Can you just shut up and fucking  _kiss_  me now, you idjit?” He doesn’t get to finish the next sentence before Zayn’s lips are on his. “Put your money where your mouth--oh.”

Liam leans into his mouth, body loosening as he loses himself--all his fears, all his what ifs--in Zayn.

As Zayn finds himself moving to his knees, Liam’s legs in between his, he pushes Liam up against the couch. Eagerly tonguing at the seam of Liam’s lips, he licks his way into his mouth. “We’ve got two long years to make up for, you know,” Zayn says breathlessly, and though there’s a grin dancing on his lips, there’s also a seriousness that Liam can’t help but groan at.

“To your bedroom?” Liam asks, raising his eyebrows, forcing out the sudden burst of confidence as he has it.

“Lead the way. You know where you’re going,” Zayn laughs, letting himself be dragged along by an adorably eagerly Liam.

As Zayn turns back around to close the bedroom door behind Liam, he waits until the door  _clicks_  before looking over his shoulder with a mischievous grin and a bat of his eyelashes. “You were always the one I imagined doing this with.”

“Me, too,” Liam admits with a coy grin. 

And with that, he takes Liam’s outstretched hand, giggling as he lets him guide Zayn to whenever he wants to go next. Because, with him,  _next_  is the only place he wants to go, as long as he’s by Liam’s side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for sticking with me through this <333 I really, really hope you enjoyed it!! Please let me know if you did by leaving comments and/or kudos! (Also, my playlist ends with Hearts Don't Break Around Here by my man, Ed Sheeran, because... well, I may have put you all through hell and back but I wasn't going to just leave you there with a broken heart. Not this time, anyway.)
> 
> [Updated Spotify playlist for this fic is [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/deniallisstrong/playlist/2z7dvqOKdviJ7lFA30Jedu?si=eQLO5b1vT-OYg63rGJAR3w)]


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